This fanfic is now under the process of rewriting, as I seem to have gained a slightly better insight into the mind of Darth Revan, thus I'll rewrite her more realistically now. However, the key story remains, with only minor alternations that I am certain to mention at the beginning of each chapter.

X X X X

Prologue – the Beginning

X X X

Never, saw it coming
All of your backstabbing

x x x

After all of the fights and the lies
Yes you wanted to harm me but that won't work anymore
Uh, no more, oh no, it's over
'Cause if it wasn't for all of your torture
I wouldn't know how to be this way now, and never back down
So I wanna say thank you

'Cause it makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
Makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
It makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter

- Christina Aquilera, Fighter

X X X X

A flash of light.

It blinded all of her senses, not just her eyes. It was so brief, so intense, so painful. How was she to feel? Her entire body crumbled, her skin felt the impact of the fall intensely. Bastila Shan felt her equilibrium give away as she collided with the hard surface of the floor of the foreign starship.

Her brown hair, however bound it was, fell into her face in short, shoulder-length wisps. Despite her battle-ready stance, she hadn't been able to prevent herself from falling. But her yellowish-brown jumpsuit and the leather "armor" that made up her outfit were unharmed.

Bastila Shan was a Jedi, one of utmost importance, or so she had learned to believe from the words of dozens, if not hundreds of people throughout the galaxy, due to her impressive skill in the rare art of Battle Meditation, a Jedi technique that even some of the most skilled Jedi Masters never managed to master. Her skill was paralleled only by her own pride. She reasoned that because she knew something unique, she was significant, thus she was better than others. Otherwise, she was human, not too tall or too short, with a face that wasn't pretty enough to be truly beautiful, but her eyes, when they weren't cold, were honest.

For months, she had been preparing herself for the moment that had passed, the moment that she had survived, the moment that would change the galaxy, turn the tide in the war. The war that had begun swiftly and seemed to be about to end equally quickly. Nothing seemed to be in their favor – they were outnumbered, not quick enough, not strong enough… they being the Jedi and the Galactic Republic, the paragon of democracy in the known universe, or so Bastila believed.

Their mission was simple, but immensely difficult as well. without a leader, the Sith armada would crumble. The Sith… Bastila always shuddered when she heard that word. There was something… serpent-like about it, slippery. Like the Sith themselves, in a way. Fallen Jedi, sworn to avenge themselves on the remaining users of the Light Side of the Force. And, unlike the Jedi, the Sith always had to have a single leader, the embodiment of their twisted ways.

When Bastila managed to force herself to rise on her elbows and knees, a spectacular sight entered her vision. The Dark Lord of the Sith lay before her in a swirl of black robes. The Dark Lord of the Sith was helpless, unarmed, unable to even move. the figure beneath the black armor was humanoid, but Bastila didn't dare even imagine what kind of face was twisting in pain behind the black mask obscuring the figure's face. only a long slit showed where the eyes should be, but there was naught but darkness beneath. The Dark Lord of the Sith lay there like a crushed, broken beast.

Like a dying raven. Bastila thought to herself as she crawled towards the figure, utilizing all her remaining strength. The Force showed how the mind of the Lord was slipping into darkness, slowly, but surely.

She had never been certain whether or not the name "Revan" stemmed from the word "raven", if it was made-up by parents who, unwillingly, foresaw the future of their child, or if it was simply a coincidence, as was Bastila´s presence here.

Too young, too inexperienced, they had deemed her. But her fellow Jedi weren't recovering from the blast yet. Was it power, holding someone's life in her hands? Without her intervention, there was no hope for the being lying before her. Did Revan still see her? Would her face would be the last thing…

Bastila hesitated. She remembered how her Masters had been skeptical when it had been decided that they were to try to take Revan alive. What chance was there for redemption? What hope was there for cooperation? Convincing a Sith Lord to help them defeat the Sith was too much of a paradox to Bastila´s mind. But there was still hope within her mind. No matter what her faults, Bastila was a Jedi. And Jedi helped whenever they could.

Bastila grasped the gloved hand of the Sith Lord tightly, and it felt like plunging into icy water. It was cold, despite the leather, but weak, limp. She feared that she could be too late and at any second, the dying body underneath the armor would disappear and become one with the Force.

The Force was the only thing that she could draw upon. The spark was fading… but there was a will to live within

"Bastila…is that Revan?" One of the other Jedi with her asked her after recovering, pointing at the unconscious Dark Lord. They had recovered, the others.

She didn't answer. She could almost hear a heart begin beating within the body. The Force was strong with the Dark Lord. Instead of embracing Revan, Bastila could sense it flowing freely around them. A strange feeling passed through Bastila as she realized that under no circumstances she could let go.

"Take the mask off." A blond haired Jedi told the man. "Check the pulse and breathing."

"But we…" he objected.

"We were sent to capture Revan alive, if possible." The woman interrupted him. "And I´d prefer that."

Bastila wasn't really listening. She continued to gaze at her hand, the one that was holding Revan's. Somehow, she felt a motion as she then a very weak grip on her own hand. It was weak, but strong enough for Bastila to tell a difference. The sound of a breath seemed to explode in her ears, like the fawn of the universe. She felt a pull towards the hooded, cloaked figure next to her, a strange sensation passing through the hand that connected with the coolness of the leather glove.

The bridge shook with explosions just as the Jedi reached out to take the mask off the Sith Lord's face. there was little time to do anything than collect the body – Bastila attempted not to think "corpse" – of Revan, which was lighter than the armor made it appear. The Jedi, all of them, dashed away towards their own concealed vessel. In the years to come, Bastila still wasn't able to tell how come they managed to make it in time.

It was, it seemed, the will of the Force.

XXX

Dantooine was a peaceful, rural world, the kind of world Bastila preferred. The rush of life in the Core was too much at times, too distracting, too loud, too… everything. She didn't want to think. Her mind was a blank and she preferred it that way at the moment. too much had transpired… too much. She was beginning to dislike the word "too". it was giving her a headache.

As soon as they landed, one of the Jedi immediately ran to the Council. The Jedi vessel, though small by most standards, was large enough to have a medical room. When the Council made their entrance, Bastila only noticed them rush past where she was sitting, towards the aforementioned room. Her curiosity took the better of her and she tottered after them once the unconscious body of the Sith Lord was taken away into the medical facilities of the Enclave.

She wanted to ask a zillion things, but didn't have the words. But no one seemed to pay any attention to her. It seemed the entire Enclave had heard the news within the span of a few minutes and were anxious to see the Dark Lord for themselves. After all, how could they believe that such a mission, with a hope of success that bordered on zero, had succeeded after all.

But the Masters allowed no one to Revan. While several Jedi carried the body past where Bastila was attempting to push her way to the front of the crowd, she noticed only that the mask was still in place. Were the Jedi afraid of taking it away? Again, her headache resumed.

Everyone knew about Revan. Even she, who didn't count herself among the so-called fan squad of the former Jedi Master. A prodigy, with a command of the Force most only dream of. With a charisma that charms anyone anywhere, no matter when, studious, outgoing… a paragon of the Order. How strange, Bastila thought, that it was always the paragons that fell first.

But Revan wasn't even thirty and had already been a Jedi Master, a liberator and war hero, a traitor. How fit that those who live their lives quickly and reach the top, becoming burning torches of light, fade as quickly as they ascended.

The following weeks seemed to drag on forever. Bastila continued her Jedi training under Master Vrook, but she constantly thought of the Dark Lord in the medbay. No one besides the Jedi Council was allowed to enter, and the Masters watched day and night. No change. No hope… no, that wasn't true. Stable condition, as far as the rumors were true. And what rumors those were! There seemed to have been a major argument among the Council about what to do with the Sith Lord. Naturally, the High Jedi Council had been contacted at once, but the Republic, it seemed, had been left unaware of the capture of the Sith Lord. But it was no surprise that within hours after said capture, Revan´s apprentice, Malak, had proclaimed himself Revan´s successor as Dark Lord.

Now, Bastila knew little of Sith hierarchy or how they chose their leaders, but it was clear to her that this was a blow to the Sith as a whole. under Revan, they had thrived, because, hands down, Revan had everything a leader – both in times of war and peace – should have. Malak, while surpassing his former best friend in brashness and ferocity in battle, had nothing else to attempt to outshine Revan with. Best friends… it seemed unreal to Bastila. Sith didn't have friends. Perhaps that was why one almost died at the hands of the other.

But no one was allowed to even be near the door, or to attempt to wake the Dark Lord from the coma. What the Masters had planned, Bastila had no idea.

Perhaps the gratitude…

"Bastila!" Vrook´s irritated voice brought her back to reality. "You get distracted. Focus. You were brought here to continue your training, not to worry about Revan. There are enough people doing that at the moment, I assure you of that."

"I´m sorry, Master Vrook." Bastila said, rather embarrassed. "But I cannot help myself."

"That does not excuse your lack of focus, though I can understand that such a presence disturbs you." Vrook sighed. "Still, the Council believes that it is for the best. We have hope yet… some of us, at least. Now, focus."

Bastila nodded and focused on the training droid in front of her. She called upon the Force and leapt into the air, avoiding the shots fired at her. With a single stroke of the double-bladed lightsaber, she destroyed the droid, which exploded in a rain of sparks. Vrook spared her a glance of slight disapproval at the use of the two handed weapon, but seemed satisfied nonetheless. Just as Bastila returned her saber to her belt, a brown-robed human Jedi ran into the training room.

"Master Vrook! Medbay, they need you." she managed to choke out, panting heavily, since she obviously ran through the entire enclave to bring him the news.

Vrook and Bastila exchanged looks and both bolted out of the room, the other Jedi slowly walking behind them. How she ever managed to slip in behind Vrook into the room, Bastila didn't know, but no one seemed to be willing or bothering to stop her, so she didn't stop. After all, in the past weeks, she had recounted her tale to the Jedi Council several times, never understanding why they exchanged grim glances when she mentioned the strange feeling she had had after the contact.

The medbay was modernly equipped, with the latest technology. And clearly, all of it was needed. In the back of the room stood a large bed, surrounded by several medical machines. A med droid occasionally wandered across the room, checking the machines. The other Council members were already there, standing beside the bed. As Bastila and Vrook entered, Dorak motioned to them to be silent. Zhar sat on a chair next to the bed where Revan lay.

But Bastila nearly needed the machines to help her, for she had something quite close to a heart attack when she spotted the figure on the bed. This surely was some kind of mistake, she told herself. It was more than inconceivable.

The Dark Lord was a woman. Not only that, but she was a beautiful woman, in Bastila´s opinion, anyway. She had a long, pale face, with graceful, if regal, features, dirty blonde hair that was longer than Bastila´s and, above all, an infinitely calm expression in her sleep.

"The displays show the mind is bordering consciousness." Zhar whispered to the others, who had also apparently only just arrived. "It's a dramatic change, considering the extent of the damage. Assuming…"

"Am I dead?" a voice asked. It wasn't malicious or evil-sounding, simply tired. Despite its melodic soprano softness, there was a clear demanding edge to it, appearing only at the opportune moment. "I saw no white tunnel or a surrender to it. Is this death?"

The Jedi Masters tensed and Zhar quickly polled his chair closer to the bed, taking the woman's hand.

"Revan." The Jedi Master said, almost humbly, Bastila noticed, more than usual. "You cannot imagine how glad I am to hear your voice."

Slowly, like the breaths she took, Revan opened her eyes. Bastila noticed a mixture of gold and blue, turning into vivid green in places, but still not turning this or that color. For the first time, she realized she could once more sense the presence in the Force… and it mirrored that mixture she saw.

"Zhar…" Revan said tiredly, looking at the Jedi Master with misty eyes. "My head hurts… which can only mean I'm at a Jedi Enclave. Jedi always give me headaches." Her voice faded away as she made an effort to stand up or at least sit up and saw that she couldn't. a twinge of annoyance passed through her face. "How long…?"

"Almost a month." Zhar said, quite kindly. "We were almost losing hope. Some believed…" he fell silent, unwilling to say what had been tormenting the Masters during that time.

But Revan seemed to understand. "Even a crippled weapon is a weapon." She said, slightly raspy this time, nodding ever so slightly. "Is it execution or interrogation and imprisonment?"

Bastila suppressed a gasp at the quickness of the assumption. Somehow, she was afraid it had escaped her lips after all, because the expressionless eyes of Revan darted into her slowly. The Jedi felt as if she was being x-rayed, despite her attempts to close her mind. The rest of the Council noticed her presence at long last and though Vrook gave her a disapproving glance, none of the others seemed to mind.

"You saved my life." Revan said calmly after a long moment, "Which means that, despite my common sense, I must repay you with the same." She said nothing of thanks, however. "With your fighting technique, I assume it will be soon." She added, with a slight smile as Bastila clearly adapted an outraged expression. Revan glanced at the Council members for a moment. "To quote what you should know by heart by now, little Jedi: Already do you exhibit the sort of willfulness and brash behavior that will lead you to corruption. Meditate upon this for at least three days and do not return until you learn the Code in at least five galactic languages." she chuckled quietly at her own words, but at the expense of a coughing fit.

"We want to help you, Revan. We need you." Dorak explained after Revan quieted down at last.

"To put it simply: no." the patient answered with the calm simplicity that somehow made Bastila very angry. "Desperation has made you bolder, I see. You are touching… but you do not persuade."

"The Republic will eventually learn of your presence." Vandar interjected as Vrook wanted to say something sour. "We cannot keep them in the dark for long. The Sith will not take you back. You know that."

"And so I should return to you?" Revan arched an eyebrow. "This is why I cannot, will not. I am beyond your comprehension and thus always surprise you. You cannot understand me, therefore, we can never cooperate."

"We saved your life, Revan." Dorak commented "Without the intervention of the strike team, you would have died on the flagship."

Revan frowned. "Yes, perhaps it would have been preferable to this. You seek to move my conscience. I have none. I lost it long ago, if I ever had it. I cannot regain it, not even through your attempts at influencing me."

"We will leave you to think about this, Revan." Vandar said, a bit disappointed, clearly.

"Thinking is the step before deciding. Only fools do it in reverse." Revan noted before resting her head back on the pillow, closing her eyes.

XXX

A week later, Bastila, the only Jedi that had "avoided" the forbidden entry, was sent to announce to Revan that the Masters were going to visit her again, to see what she had decided. despite her wariness, Bastila had to admit that Revan looked better. After much insisting and asking, she had been granted a few holobooks, when her periods of fatigue grew shorter. But usually, she only asked for the news, political shifts, important battles…

Color had returned to her face, but she was still exceptionally pale. However, the mask seemed to be a fit enough explanation. The black robes she had been wearing during her reign as Sith Lord had been kept, at her request, as she refused to wear Jedi clothes. Otherwise, she remained bedridden, as far as Bastila knew.

The day of the decision, however, Bastila found Revan pacing around the chamber, fully dressed in a midnight blue tunic and trousers, similar to what a Jedi might wear, but distinctly un-Jedi like as well. the robes and mask she had worn before were packed in a backpack near her bed.

I have to wait and let him secure his position…

The words passed through Bastila´s mind, as if she herself had spoken them, but she then understood that the thought had no meaning to her and she found herself realizing that it couldn't have been her own.

"What did you just say?" she stuttered.

Revan stopped pacing around the room to fix the Jedi with a cool stare. "Despite my obligation to save your life in the future, I don't believe we would make good conversation pals, little Jedi."

"But… but you said something about him securing his position – who's he?" Bastila asked, like an obnoxious child determined to prove they were right.

Revan was motionless, expressionless, like a statue. Then… Can you hear me, Jedi? The same ominously calm voice, perfectly fitting the silent and figure in front of her, asked.

"Yes… I can hear you…" Bastila whispered, slightly horrified.

For a second, Revan´s eyes widened. The Council's second entrance made her exhale ever so slightly.

"Are we interrupting something?" Vrook coldly asked, sensing the tension.

Fixing Vrook with her icy stare, Revan spoke, choosing words well: "Yes, but you would hardly understand the complexity of it, so let us pretend my answer was "Nothing."

"Have you had time to think, Revan?" Dorak patiently asked.

There was a frightful quality to the precision of Revan´s slow movements, the calm of her face. she was like a perfect Jedi should be, calm, patient, without the slightest trace of negative emotion… save for the chill her very presence emitted.

"All I can do here is think. Think and plan.." she smiled briefly at the flash of fear that passed through the room. "I have an answer for you… and you have something for me."

Before any of the Jedi could notice (simply because they didn't expect Revan to be foolish enough to try and massacre her way out of the enclave), Revan´s palm opened and the hilt of a lightsaber flied into it. The Council ignited their weapons, but Bastila saw that the weapon in Revan´s hand was her own. With a telekinetic wave, Revan pushed the Council away, yanking Bastila towards her. The yellow blade was ignited, hovering close to the Jedi's throat.

"One move and your precious Princess Padawan joins the Force." Revan hissed, standing behind Bastila.

The Council, tense but firm, was surrounding her, awaiting her first move. "You won't do this, Revan. I know you won't." Zhar calmly said.

"You doubt the Dark Lord?" Revan asked, arching an eyebrow. "Most amusing."

"Calm down, Revan." Vrook slowly said, extinguishing the blade of his lightsaber. The Council followed suit – they knew very well what would happen, should Revan kill Bastila. "Without her, the Republic will be lost. You'll never get your revenge on Malak."

"Revenge is such a crude goal." Revan noted simply, "And for now, I simply want my lightsaber."

The Jedi looked at each other for a second. Somewhat reluctantly, Dorak produced a single bladed lightsaber with several runes on it. Surprisingly, they showed the Light and the Dark together, combined into the Force. It immediately flew into Revan´s left hand, but she didn't clip it to her belt for Bastila to reach.

"My congratulations, you've learned the first thing about strategy: know when you are defeated. I'll borrow our friend here for a while. I do hope we won't be seeing each other again."

She nudged Bastila, who gave the Masters one last helpless glance. Bastila directed Revan outside the Jedi Enclave and through the plains, until they reached the edge of a cliff. There Revan removed the yellow blade from the Jedi's throat. Bastila rubbed her neck for a moment, although the blade never touched her skin. Revan climbed a larger rock to get a better view.

"You won't get away with this, Revan." She ignored Bastila´s voice until her eyes rested on what she was looking for – a civilian spaceport. With luck, she could sneak aboard a freighter or steal one of the Jedi Starfighters she knew were sometimes sent there for repairs.

"I thought I already have." Revan noted, coolly.

"Why are you doing this? The Council just wanted to help you, they…"

"Their intentions were far from that noble, I assure you, little Jedi." Revan noted, still scanning the landscape. "They have no reason to care for me, which is why they were debating whether or not to wipe my mind and replace it with their own creation."

"The Council would never!" Bastila retorted fiercely.

"Believe what you will. I see things more clearly than you do, because I don't have the beliefs you cling to all too desperately even now."

Bastila sulked, but she didn't retort. She didn't know what to say. Then, "What are you going to do to me?" there was fear in her voice.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already, little Jedi. Perhaps I could turn you to the Dark Side?" Revan asked, a glint passing through her eyes.

"Never!" Bastila hissed.

"Never is too long a word, even for the Jedi. But, as I promised to save your life, I grant it to you now. Don't look so surprised. They call me a Sith, but I know what honor is." Revan looked away. "I have to go. Be assured we will meet again." With that, she tossed the yellow saber at Bastila and jumped off the cliff. Bastila caught her weapon and ran to see where Revan landed. But night had fallen and the dark robes blended so well with the environment…

And the darkness within the Force lifted as the black presence retreated into the shadows, escaping from the grasp of the light once more.